Outcast Queen: Her Return from Hell novel Chapter 358

“You bitch!” Warren shrieked in frustration. “When did you team up with this traitor?”

“Just recently at Elysian Manor.” Smiling, Eleanor reached out and affectionately tilted Phoenix's chin. “I ran into a little trouble that day, and thankfully, my wonderful niece stepped in to help me out.”

“Elysian Manor!”

Warren gasped.

He remembered perfectly well that he had sent men to keep a close eye on Phoenix when she went to Elysian Manor. His subordinates had reported that she stayed in a private dining room the entire time and never interacted with anyone! Now it was obvious they had secretly formed an alliance right under his nose.

They had guarded against every rival in the business world but completely missed Eleanor—a woman who ostensibly had nothing to do with Phoenix and even shared bad blood with her.

“Heh... Hahahaha!” Sitting at the head of the table, Alistair suddenly erupted into a shrill, desolate laugh. He slumped back into his chair, his gaze darting between Eleanor and Phoenix as if he had aged another decade. “How ironic... The two women I guarded against and feared the most in this family ended up being the very daggers plunged into my heart!”

“Dad, it doesn't feel good to be outplayed, does it?” Eleanor's smile vanished, replaced by a layer of frost. “You prided yourself on being a master strategist your entire life, treating everyone like pawns on your chessboard. Too bad the times have changed.”

She stared down at her elderly father. “I'm standing here today not just to fulfill a promise, but to see with my own eyes how a man as high and mighty as you gets dragged off his pedestal and stomped into the mud!”

After venting years of pent-up resentment, Eleanor turned to Phoenix, a fiery light dancing in her eyes. “You didn't disappoint me, Phoenix. You accomplished what I couldn't all those years ago. From now on, this five percent is yours.”

“Thank you for making this happen, Eleanor.” Phoenix took the transfer agreement, uncapped her fountain pen, and fluidly signed her name.

The moment the pen lifted, the dust settled.

Thirty-five percent against thirty-three percent. A mere two-point advantage, yet it acted as an insurmountable chasm, forever locking Phoenix onto the throne of the Prescott Group's largest shareholder.

Phoenix slowly walked over to Alistair. Resting her hands on the table, she leaned in, whispering in a voice only the two of them could hear. “Alistair, your era is completely over. But don't worry, the Prescott assets will flourish in my hands. It's just...”

She paused intentionally, a demonic smirk curving her lips. “...That in the future business world, the Prescott name won't exist. There will only be Ignis.”

Those light, whispered words became the final straw that broke the camel's back.

Alistair's eyes widened in sheer horror and despair. A suffocating wave of chest pain seized him. He clutched his heart, his breathing reducing to a ragged wheeze. The sheer shock triggered a violent coughing fit, sending a spray of blood onto the documents before him. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed heavily onto the table, completely unresponsive.

“Dad!”

“Quick! Call an ambulance!”

Meanwhile, firmly seated at the head of the table, Phoenix ruthlessly announced a series of terrifying corporate reforms.

The more the shareholders listened, the faster their hearts pounded. Anyone with eyes could see that once these reforms were implemented, the Prescott Group would be completely hollowed out, reduced to nothing more than a blood bag and vassal for Ignis Global!

Standing off to the side, Yolanda stared at her boss with burning, fanatical admiration. Only she knew that Phoenix's ultimate goal wasn't assimilation or absorption—it was destruction.

Once the Prescott Group's core revenue-generating projects were stripped and transferred to Ignis Global, this rotting century-old empire would become a bloodless corpse, meeting its absolute end.

Central City Hospital, VIP Ward.

After several hours of emergency treatment, Alistair finally woke up. He wore an oxygen mask, his face as gray as ash. His once sharp and shrewd eyes were now cloudy and dull; he looked as if his very spirit had been drained, aging him a decade in an instant.

"Dad, you're awake?" Warren hurriedly approached with a glass of warm water, trying to soothe him. "The doctor said you collapsed from extreme stress. You must stay calm and rest..."

Slap!

Before he could finish, Alistair, fueled by a sudden burst of strength, swung his hand and delivered a hard slap to Warren's face.